I tried to sooth my nerves by chain smoking. When three Newport 100's didn't help, I tried taking a shot of Jim Bean. When I realized I couldn't be drunk for whatever I was about to partake in, I focused solely on what I should wear for tonight's events.

Business casual is what I was told. Well, I was actually told 'anything would look good on me, but it's a professional job.' I went for a black blazer on top of a light grey v-neck, with wedges and a pencil skirt; my hair in a sleek ponytail that fell a few inches above my belly button. My usual social work attire.

I picked up a manila envelope, the contents suddenly feeling heavy in my hands. I didn't dare to read it last night, I didn't want to make myself a nervous wreck. Too late.

I would finish whatever Luca needed me for and be done with him. He was no longer my best friend; he was overtaken by someone named Luce. It was as if he had two different personalities. A beautiful soul versus a piece of fucking shit not worthy to be stepped on by my gym shoes.

Yes. I would finish this job, and I would get over the loss of Luca Blackburn.

I shut the lights off in the apartment. With Giuseppe at work, the only lights and noise came from the bubbles of the light up fish tank that housed our Beta fish, Wixsuch. He lived an incredibly long life for something so...bright.

I made sure the door was locked behind me and left, my apartment building's dingy hallway seemingly longer than normal. I would try to be as calm as Buddha.

Buddha was the calm one, right?

"Try to focus your breathing. Count them out. 1, in. 2, out." Luca whispered, his lips practically touching my ear.

I tried to stop my neck from arching on its own. "A little difficult."

The wind blew, the scent of sandalwood and cigarette filling my nose. His lips moved down closer to the spot between my neck and collarbone. "You're going to be in situations that you won't want to be in and will need to remember this. Let me hear you, Chaya."

Luca was waiting outside for me, his attire all business. His eyes narrowed; a cat hunting its prey. "I think you should change."

I raised an eyebrow, quickly pushing his hand off the door handle so I could open it. "I wear this everyday. It's business casual."

He breathed deeply. "Chaya.." his hand touched mine, and for a second before shrugging it off I thought about letting it stay there.

"Please, I wanna go and get this over with."

He said nothing; no snarky remark and certainly no grin. He closed the car door behind me and got into the seat next to mine. "Paperwork, please."

I handed it over to him, his hands delicately pulling the stacks of information out. He immediately went to work, scanning each document with his eyes as if his life depended on it. He took his phone out, turning the flash on and taking pictures of the more important ones. "Have you read any of this?"

I shook my head, keeping my gaze out the window. The drive was becoming less and less familiar; before I knew it we were on the highway and were speeding pass exit signs.

"You need to make a stop somewhere - a house visit."

"And if they don't answer the door?"

He didn't look up from the papers, "They'll answer."

I rolled my eyes. There was no need for conversation - something that upset me more than I would care to admit. It seemed like decades ago now, but at one point Luca and I could speak until the world ended. We always had something to contribute; always had a reason to hear the others voice. Now the tension was so thick a steak knife wouldn't cut it.

I lost track of time, but I finally recognized an exit: CLOVE RD. Clove Road. Staten Island.

"We're on the island?" I asked, not moving my head.

"Yes. We'll be there shortly."

There was nothing left to be said as we drove the remaining miles to our destination. All of the sudden my blazer felt like a thousand pounds on my shoulder - my arms felt like jello trying to rip the fucking thing off. Luca didn't bother to look at me; he was simply holding on to the cuff of the blazer to help me take it off.

I didn't say thank you, although I was tempted. No matter how much I disliked him, Luca still knew when I was getting anxious and still helped. I had no choice but to be grateful.

We finally pulled up to the destination. A two family semi brick building, this is what Staten Island's row homes looked like. Black numbers hung from the screen door, a number '7' threatening to fall off the next time the door was slammed. Although dingy, the shrubs and yard were still being taken care of - a sign that the person living here either gave a shit or that the landlord wanted all appearances to be made. So far so good.

The driver of the vehicle parked the car but kept it on, making sure all the lights were off. "Let's go," Luca said quietly, opening his door.

"This is a house call...outsiders don't get to come." I replied sternly, finally turning my gaze to him. "You need to sit inside."

"You don't know what you're looking for, Chaya," he argued, now fully stepping out of the Escalade. "This won't go on your permanent record, if you're worried about that."

I sighed, accepting defeat as I hoped out of the car. "There's no such thing as a social work permanent record..."

We walked the concrete path, stepping up a single step before reaching the door. I turned my head just enough to see Luca out of my peripheral, "this is the door?" He simply nodded.

I took a deep breath and straightened out my gray shirt, wishing I kept the blazer on. Keeping my game face on, I knocked three times.

No answer.

"Try again," Luca urged.

I bounced my knuckles off the metal door again, "Social services!"

No answer. "Did they know we were coming?"

His eyes turned dark, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Someone tipped them off."

And that was all that was said before he proceeded to kick the door down.